Part 2 (1/2)

”That's my favorite Palmetto in Tampa.”

”Y-you have a f-ff-fffavorite P-P-Palmetto? Is that a t-t-t-tree or a b-bush?”

I smiled in answer. ”It's a tree that looks like a shrub.” ”W-why is it your f-ff-ffffavorite?

”It was right outside my bedroom window,” I said, picturing it in my mind. ”I spent a lot of time looking at it.”

”W-why do you w-wonder fortable. ”I care about you too,” I said quietly.

After what seemed like a long time, I finally asked, ”So do we have to work on our Brussels sprout report or what?” It seemed like forever, but he finally nodded, and then pulled out his blue Horticulture notebook, coming to sit next to me on the bed.

The more I listened to him tell me what we should do for the report, and the more I watched his eyes as they flicked back and forth from the pages of his notebook to my face, I wondered if I could have him and not ruin him.

I licked my lips as I focused on his. They weren't thin and they weren't a full-on boy-pout either. I wanted to kiss him, but knew he probably wouldn't respond well to me doing that. He was an anxious guy already, and after the debacle of a kiss after the movies, I knew better than to go for it like that again.

Maybe if I tried really, really hard, I wouldn't screw this up. Maybe I wouldn't screw him up. Maybe I could just...

Maybe I could just be normal and like a boy and hold his hand and kiss him.

Maybe it was possible that Elliott really did want me. Maybe he wanted me as a friend. Maybe, if I tried really hard, he'd want me as more than a friend. Maybe he could...

Very, very carefully, and very, very tentatively, I managed to press my lips against his. His lips were soft and giving, making me want more and more of him. Elliott tasted sweet, not like candy, but like beets, sweet with the underlying earthy notes that accentuated the sweetness even more.

His sweet flavor, coupled with the peppery orange smell of his skin, made my senses go into overdrive. I wanted to grab a hold of him and press against him until I sank into him. Or more accurately, he sank into me.

I wanted him. I wanted him inside of me. I wanted his stuttering voice and his pained eyes so full of self-doubt. I wanted his awkwardness and his pain.

I wanted Elliott.

And when I wanted something, I took it.

Usually.

But with Elliott, if I took, I was certain I would break him. I didn't want to break him. I wanted to make him whole.

So instead of rubbing myself against him, instead of letting my hand roam his s.e.xy body, instead of even increasing the pressure on his lips, I pulled back as I flicked my tongue out to savor his unique flavor.

When I finally opened my eyes, I found him practically shaking in front of me, his eyes wide and his lips pressed tightly together. Fear seized me as it never had before with any other boy or man. He didn't want me. Not like I wanted him.

Not only didn't he want me, but I disgusted him.

I wasn't surprised. If I were him, I'd be disgusted by me too. I was a horrible person who took way more than I could ever give back. I knew that the things I did, the people I did, weren't secrets. I was nowhere near virginal.

”I'm sorry,” I whispered, but his chest continued to rise and fall rapidly. He looked absolutely panicked, so I did the only thing I knew would work: I ran my hands through his dark rusty hair and whispered again, ”I'm sorry.”

I braced myself for his rejection, sure that he'd realized how wrong I was for him, in every way, no matter what kind of relations.h.i.+p we were in, but his breathing slowed as my fingers soothed his scalp, and as I closed my eyes, I let myself pretend just for a moment that neither of us were messed up and both of us were whole.

I wondered where I'd learned how to soothe anyone or anything.

Warmth encompa.s.sed my hands and I opened my eyes. Elliott had wrapped his hands around mine and he was moving them down from his hair. When they were pressed against his chest, he didn't let go. His gaze was intense, his eyes burning into me. Maybe he didn't hate the kiss.

Maybe I hadn't f.u.c.ked up.

He was still breathing hard, but he no longer looked like he was going to pa.s.s out. I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I could apologize again, but I wasn't sorry for kissing him, and I was proud that I didn't wrap my legs around his waist and try to ride him for a week.

”S-S-SSSophie?”

I didn't know why he was saying my name like that. I didn't know if he had a question or wanted me to explain what just happened. We could figure that s.h.i.+t out later. I was still just floating on the rush of having done that with him.

I pulled my hands away. ”Tom will be home soon. Let's start on dinner.”

Sophie had just kissed me and I nearly had a panic attack over it. When she apologized, my whole body began to ache. I wanted her to be happy about kissing me. I wanted her to want me. It was all very confusing, but when her hands were in my hair, I figured that maybe she was happy about it, but thought that I wasn't.